2023 was an exciting year as I attended workshops by renowned watercolor artists Agnes Cecile and Aine Divine at Benjamin Eck Gallery in Munich. These experiences deepened my artistic skills and fueled my creative journey.

Why do I paint my son so often? It’s not just because he’s the center of my universe. Painting him allows me to reflect on our relationship, work through my emotions, and find ways to repair and grow. Inspired by Becky Kennedy’s TED Talk on the importance of repairing parent-child relationships, I’ve found that art is a powerful tool for understanding and improving my parenting.

Attending Kelogsloops' watercolor workshop was a transformative experience. Through three days of focused learning on composition, skin tones, and abstract techniques, I found new ways to integrate subtlety and balance into my art. Read on to discover the valuable insights and tips I gained from this inspiring workshop.

On the final day at Aine Divine's summer school, I finally was able to let go of the struggle I felt until then. I set the intention to allow each brushstroke to dry and ensuring each stroke was deliberate. What I think really helped my work was imagining myself in Aine's mindset and guess what—I think it led to a stunning outcome.

The reason behind painting this piece started from my desire for a new challenge.

I had never before painted elderly individuals, nor had I tackled male subjects. Using Midjourney, I created a reference featuring an elderly Caucasian man in a kimono, accompanied by ikebana flowers. It was a quite a challenge, but I found joy in the process, especially as I reached the midpoint. Normally, I avoid painting drapery, hands, wrinkled faces, men, and flowers, so completing this piece felt like a significant achievement at the time.I named this painting 'Mankai 満開' because in Japanese, 'mankai' is used to describe the peak bloom of a flower. We typically don’t associate this with old age, but for me, it signifies that humans, can reach their peak with age—a time of success and wisdom.

Moreover, after finishing the painting, I realized it somehow portrayed aspects of who I am or could have been in a different universe. Growing up, ocassionaly I wished I had been born a guy. Raised in Japan, this painting seems to reflect my imagined life as a man.

Reflecting on the completed painting, I find it intresting how it has become like a self-portrait, capturing aspects of my identity and aspirations.That is exactly one of the beauty of creativity.

Don't you think taking photos of kids without getting noticed is the best way to capture a great photo? The expression that you cannot quite explain? The photo reference for this painting was taken when I took my son to the zoo and he saw a giraffe for the first time. I wanted to capture his face just as he saw the giraffe, so I quietly crept up from behind and held the camera suddenly in front of him to capture that instant without him reacting to the camera. His expression was so different—full of curiosity and a twinkle in his eyes. That's what I wanted to share in this painting: the twinkliness of curiosity that children, and even adults, are capable of.

Often when I paint, I'm reflecting on something specific. It might be personal struggles, moments of regret with my son, or the beauty of his specific expression I adore. While creating 'Cry,' my thoughts were with a friend I met in Munich, someone I felt an instant connection with. Her journey mirrored my own past challenges—adjusting to life in a new country, navigating a partner's struggles with addiction and mental health issues. As I painted, I contemplated the emotions she must have held inside, the complexities of her experience. Art has a unique way of bringing forth these unspoken feelings, whether joyous or sorrowful, capturing the essence of human resilience and emotional depth.

We go through loss every month, a cycle of hope and disappointment mixed with the pain of missed chances. From creating symbolic art to facing setbacks, each step shaped my journey to becoming a mother, teaching me to value every precious moment.

'Womb,' was inspired by my son's transition to a new daycare where there was a tug-of-war between wanting to protect him and the realization that he is capable of navigating life's challenges on his own.

As a mother and an artist, I often catch myself trying to balance my passion for painting and caring for my son. I dread not being able to paint at some point during the day. Painting helps me stay sane, reflect on relationships, and hold onto a part of myself through parenthood. Gradually, I've learned to prioritize my creative time without guilt, realizing it's essential for my well-being and personal growth.

Something about that newborn phase, up until around five months old, made me feel like my son was an alien. Maybe it's my sleep deprivation, his underdeveloped vision, limited communication, innate reflexes, or just the profound bond and hormonal changes in me—I can't quite understand what my newborn son was thinking or feeling, making him seem almost alien and sacred. There was one moment when he just gazed at the lamp light for such a long time, with a face that I associated with something sacred. This was a watercolor portrait to capture his sacredness, with the exact reference photo being this moment of his sacred gaze.

I said 'Sorry, Kai.' He looked at me curious, surprised, but so concerned. It caught me off guard when he said 'Why, what’s wrong?' He's never put words together like that before. It just caught me of guard to realize how much hes grown and capable with understanding feelings.

Inspired by a conversation with a dear friend, Joy, I embark on a journey to revisit a long-held painting project. Join me as I explore the symbolism of 'Ophelia' and reflect on the profound questions it evokes about loss, grief, and the human experience.

fter my son was born, I struggled with the realization that I couldn't protect him from life's hardships. My artwork reflected these fears, showing his innocence against a dark background. This symbolized the balance of light and darkness in life. Art helps me embrace vulnerability and find beauty in the journey of parenthood.

Today marks my first blog post, where I share why I painted cairns. It wasn’t just for beauty; it was to push through a creative block.

Many artists hit this wall and stop, but I chose to paint something simple and familiar. As I persevered, my work transformed, and I created a piece I’m proud of. The lesson? Embrace discomfort and use it to explore new possibilities. This applies to life too. Keep creating and exploring, and remember, feeling lost can lead to amazing and beautiful outcomes.